


Time To Move On

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Introspection, John Thinking, John-centric, Mary Flirts, Minor Mary Morstan/John Watson, POV John Watson, Pining John, Post-Reichenbach, Sexual Humor, Workplace, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6718864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After John uses a poor choice in words around the very interesting (and very attractive) nurse at the surgery and she, amazingly, is still rather interested, John ponders the state of his life and what the future could hold for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time To Move On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NSquared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NSquared/gifts).



> So this is another fic in the nongentorum series! This was an answer to a prompt I got from **Nsquared** when I first announced doing the series to use the sentence " _Can I touch your boob?_ " with a Warstan pairing. Unfortunately, "boob" means "idiot" in British slang so I had to change the sentence slightly for it to mean the same thing, but otherwise, it's exactly the same. So please, enjoy!

"Can I touch your knockers?"

Mary raised an eyebrow at the doctor in front of her. “You may be cute and all but don’t think that just because you’re cute you can get fresh,” she said.

John blinked and then stared for a moment. “What, exactly, did I just say?” he asked slowly.

“’Can I touch your knockers,’” Mary said slowly, crossing her arms.

He groaned and crossed his arms on his desk, laying his head down on them. “Christ, I need more sleep,” he groaned. 

Mary chuckled and then moved over to his desk, sitting on the edge of it. “I’m a bit lost here, Dr. Watson. Start from the beginning?”

“Dr. Sawyer wants us to take advantage of a program that will help women with doing monthly breast self-examinations for breast cancer. And I’m a bit sleep-deprived at the moment thanks to crap neighbours so I’m having trouble coming up with ways to bring it up to my patients.”

Mary nodded. “I’ve heard it mentioned,” she said. And then it dawned on her. “ _Oh._ She wants _all_ the doctors to bring it up to their female patients, and you’re trying to figure out a tactful way of bringing it up to yours, as you aren’t an OB/GYN.”

“Exactly,” he said, lifting his head up.

“Well, I can solve that problem for you, at least for today,” she said, grinning. “While you have about nine hundred female patients, I’m your nurse for all of them. I’ll bring it up, and go through the basics if they want to, and if they don’t, I’ll give them the pamphlet with the information before you even have to see them.”

“Nurse Morstan, you’re a godsend,” he said gratefully.

“Please, call me Mary. I insist. And if it saves your from mortifying yourself in front of one of them and getting slapped in the face then it’s worth it,” Mary said with a smile.

“You didn’t slap me,” he pointed out.

“Well, that’s because I find you kinda cute,” she said as her smile got wider. She reached over and patted his hand. “And after a few dates, maybe I will let you touch my knockers.” She gave him a wink as she squeezed his hand and then got off his desk and then made her way out of his office. He watched her walk away, admiring the way she moved and, yes, the curve of her backside as well.

They flirted a bit, though not _quite_ as blatantly as just now. Part of him still felt it was too soon after...everything, after Sherlock’s fall from grace. But another part of him wondered if perhaps he’d been holding on too long to his old friend, using him as a life preserver to an old life he really should have let go of by now. It hadn’t been a _bad_ life. It had had bad moments, of course. Dangerous moments. Sad moments. But good ones as well. Ones worth remembering and cherishing and whatnot.

But perhaps it was time to move on, really _live_ again.

The idea of a future without Sherlock was scary, but he’d managed so far these last nine months. Granted he hadn’t managed very _well_ , but he’d managed. He hadn’t sunk into a drunken stupor, he hadn’t gone into a catatonic state, he hadn’t _completely_ pushed all of his old friends and acquaintances away, not completely. So it was something. And he was somewhat open to new possibilities, new people. Mary was indicative of that. And that, he had to admit, was an avenue he was interested in exploring. So he would have to see what came of that.

He went about going through his patient files. Mary had been right; it did seem as though he had about nine hundred female patients today. He wondered how on earth he had managed that. He knew he still had a bit of notoriety, had a few fans. He supposed he was handsome enough, and he _was_ single. Perhaps a few were trying to land a doctor for a potential mate.

But if he had his eye on anyone, it’d be the blonde nurse with the cheeky, warm grin and the sparkling eyes. He knew dating someone you worked with was a bad idea; he and Sarah only managed because they were smart enough to have realized it early on before they got too attached and really, they realized each other's medical brilliance right off. But he knew she was leaving soon, too, off to head up a hospital somewhere, and maybe that was best. If anything did happen with Mary, she wouldn’t have to see it.

And he wouldn’t have to wonder about what might have beens if Sherlock hadn’t interfered.

He supposed he should be thankful if anything happened with Mary, that wouldn’t be a problem this time. No Sherlock to interfere, to put his needs above any relationship that might develop. It would take some getting used to, but maybe he’d be able to be okay with it eventually. Maybe he wouldn’t feel guilty for being happy. He supposed he’d just have to wait and see. For now he had nine hundred women or so queuing up to be seen today for various ailments, and he had a nurse to help, and, he hoped, maybe a date at the end of the night.

If he was lucky.


End file.
